


chocolate cherries

by daydreamsago



Category: Bandom, Blondie (Band), Joan Jett and the Blackhearts, The Runaways (Band)
Genre: F/F, Flirting, Getting Together, Implied Sexual Content, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sex and Chocolate, Useless Lesbians
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-19 06:52:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16529558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daydreamsago/pseuds/daydreamsago
Summary: There’s something about Debbie Harry that fascinates Joan, but maybe it’s more than just a fascination.





	chocolate cherries

**Author's Note:**

> my bored mind wanted some debbie/joan. this wrote itself, essentially.

There’s something about Debbie Harry that fascinates Joan, but maybe it’s more than just a fascination. It’s not jealousy, perhaps more of an admiration. She’s stunning, there’s no one like her: Joan knows that for sure.

She looks up to Debbie, wanting to be half as wonderful as her, yet she can’t shake the warm feeling inside whenever her eyes catch a glimpse of the older woman. Joan pushes the feeling down, though each time it hits, it becomes stronger. It’s teetering on the edge between idolization and complete lovesickness, and it kinda scares the shit out of her.

Watching her on stage is one thing, with her wild persona performing the songs she’s most passionate about. It’s working with her that’s absolutely _excruciating_. She’s all smiles and radiant energy, it’s no wonder the world can’t get enough of Blondie. Debbie Harry is a star, and Joan’s just happy to see her beauty up close.

But as the months pass, close begins to feel too far away. Joan wants more, more than sharing a stage with her, more than walking beside her. She wants Debbie Harry of Blondie, singing and dancing in front of a crowd, _and_ Debbie Harry at home, eating popcorn and crying after a good film. Joan realizes it when the tour’s almost over, and it hurts to think she won’t see her daily come a week’s time.

Joan runs into her after a show one night while on her way to her dressing room. It’s no accident, really. She takes the long way for a reason.

“Joan!” Debbie exclaims when she sees her. She’s still buzzing from the gig, seemingly. She opens her arms to embrace the other woman. “You guys did great out there,” she says, her chin resting on Joan’s shoulder.

It takes Joan a brief moment to return to reality again. Debbie does things to her, makes her feel like her legs are made of rubber and her brain is full of television static. “Thanks,” she replies simply. “You killed it, as usual.” She flashes a charming smile after they pull away.

Joan swears there’s a blush present on Debbie’s cheeks. Maybe she’s just overheated still from the hot stage lights. “Thanks, cutie.” The word flows from her lips casually. She’s an experienced flirt, that’s for sure. It makes Joan feel warm all over.

“Hey, you wanna come back to my dressing room? They loaded it with chocolate and candy, I couldn’t possibly finish it all myself.” Joan’s mouth is moving before her brain can catch up, everything happening too fast. She needs to get her alone, though, and perhaps she needs to be a little blunt in order to do so.

Debbie nods, face still flushed. “Oh, sure. You know I would never turn down chocolate.”

Then she’s following Joan into the dressing room, and the door is shut behind them. They’re alone. Joan’s head is a mess. _Joan_ is a mess. She makes her way over to the table, retrieving a box of chocolates. _Ha, romantic_ , her thoughts intrude. She pays them no mind, instead, focusing on not tripping over her own two feet in front of Debbie.

Debbie sits on the big puffy couch, sprawling out as she kicks her shoes off. The shorts she’s wearing make it seem like her legs go on for miles; Joan tries to keep herself from staring, but fails miserably.

The older woman feels her eyes boring into her skin. She decides not to point it out. Joan sits on the cushion next to her, close, yet not close enough. She reckons she won’t be close enough to her until they’re touching from head to toe.

Joan takes a chocolate for herself from the box, then goes to hand it over to Debbie. She’s laid back against an arm of the couch, her hands resting on her stomach. 

“Pick one for me,” she requests.

Joan selects a dark chocolate-covered cherry, sweet and irresistible, quite like Debbie herself. She lamely holds it out for her to take.

“ _Joan_ ,” Debbie all but whines. “I’m tired, feed me.”

“Since when did I become your servant?” Joan laughs, trying to mask her inner panic. It’s not really working.

Debbie smirks. “Since now.”

Joan rolls her eyes. “Anything for you, princess,” she replies sarcastically. She gets up from her spot, and sits on the arm of the couch, near where Debbie’s head is resting.

She feeds Debbie the cherry, intently watching her lips; they’re plump and appear very kissable. _Fuck_ , Joan thinks. She absentmindedly picks a chocolate for herself, something with caramel. It tastes wonderful, creamy and sweet, though she’d rather taste Debbie.

“Chocolate cherries are my favorite, how’d you know?” Debbie says, looking up at Joan.

“Dumb luck,” Joan says in reply. “Want another?”

“Hell yeah.”

Joan teases her this time, pulling the cherry away before it reaches Debbie’s mouth. She giggles.

Debbie frowns, dramatic. “I hate being teased, Joan.”

“Oh, is that so?” Joan flirts. She can’t help herself anymore.

She laughs, her eyes glistening. She’s so beautiful, Joan thinks no one else could ever compare. “It’s so.” Debbie has already forgotten about the cherry, and finds herself staring at Joan. “You’re the worst.”

Joan’s breath hitches; the air suddenly feels different. “You love me, though.”

Debbie sits up, takes the cherry from Joan’s hand and puts it in her mouth. “Well, maybe I do.” She chews and swallows the cherry, and her pride, too.

The world feels as if it has stopped spinning, just for the two of them. And maybe it has, they have no way of telling. Joan leans forward, gravitating toward the woman before her. Debbie does the same, until their lips are meeting for the first time.

Joan holds the sides of her face, her blonde hair mingling with her own black hair: an elegant contrast. She opens her mouth halfway through the kiss, and Joan is greeted with the unmistakable taste of chocolate cherries.

When they part for oxygen, Debbie smiles. Bliss is evident on her face. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” Joan admits. Her heart is still beating a million miles per minute, adrenaline pumping through her veins at a rapid speed. She couldn’t believe what had just happened.

“Good to know.” Debbie reaches up to brush a lock of hair out of Joan’s face. “Still, no more teasing, got it?”

It’s Joan’s turn to smirk. “I can’t make any promises.”

Debbie melts as she looks into Joan’s eyes. “Who knows, maybe I secretly love being teased.” Her voice is soft, sultry.

“That’s something I’d like to find out.” Joan feels that old feeling, the one that only Debbie gives her, but now, its intensity has increased tenfold.

“Then find out,” is all Debbie says.

Joan forgets about everything else in that moment. All that matters is that Debbie Harry is like putty in her hands. The chocolates can wait.


End file.
